In many bingo venues, no one moves. Grayish heads twitch slightly, someone shifts in her seat and you hear a phlegmy cough off in the corner. No one shouts "Bingo!" and stands up and does a little dance. That's not the case every Sunday at the Flying Boots. Almost the entire room has a curse word, sexual innuendo or absolutely random quip after each Letter-number combo Dorothy calls out. Banter volleys across the bar. Cackles erupt in the corner. Rum and Cokes spill. Inflatable fish and candleholders are rewarded. And everyone is older than you.

[Flying Botts Café & Spur Room, 7 p.m. Sundays, $1 card, $5 blackout, 614 S. 38^th St., Tacoma, 253.475.9628]